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I am the one thing in life I can control
I am inimitable
I am an original
The first time Ashe misses something, it frightens her. She doesn’t laugh at a joke, doesn’t act the polite script everyone else does, and they stare at her. Her skin crawls, her bindings itching. All of them know what she is. It’s impossible for them to not realize she’s already losing herself.
“S-sorry, I’m not feeling well,” she says, and gets to her feet, too quickly. Her chair falls as she runs from the room. No one wants to think of what we’ve caused, her father told her once. So you must always act normal, even if a disaster comes and takes you away with it. For our placement, for your safety.
The words pound through her head, and she ignores the shouts behind her. Friends, family, trying to get her to return. She doesn’t want to apologize, doesn’t want to face her mistake or her loss-
She bursts out from under the trees and collapses on a cliff overlooking the sea. The salt air is cool on her face, and she calms her breathing by matching it to the waves. This is normal. This is who she is, someone who prefers the solitude and quiet.
When her father finds her, she doesn’t apologize. “I never like dinner parties,” she says, without looking at him. “I hate them, and I always mess things up. Even without… that.”
“I know,” he says. “But the hurricane’s close to thought, Aesling. Please try to be mindful of what others think.”
She bites back a sharp retort. It’s not in her to fight him, even if she will with other elders. “Of course, Dad.”
“Thank you. Now, let’s go home.”
Ashe looks out over the sea. She already feels at home, sitting here. But she stands, deciding she’d rather avoid an argument. “Of course.”
—–
My grandfather was a fire and brimstone preacher
But there are things that the
Homilies and hymns won’t teach ya
Ashe rolls as she hits the ground, coming up next to Gregor. She reaches out for him before he can rush in again, green sparks flickering at her fingertips.
As always, there’s that flash of memory. Raised voices, her heart pounding, body frozen in fear, father looming over her. The few times he actually grabs her, each time making her more and more aware of the circles on her arms. Broken plates, tumbled furniture, so he doesn’t actually harm her, but his words cutting at her all the same.
“Only use your powers for Meathe, for your people. If you’re at risk, then run. Always run first, and let us help you dammit, so that you can last long enough to help us. That is your duty, always.”
The monster roars, jolting her back to the battle. She slaps her hand against Gregor’s back just before he leaps, giving him that extra luck needed for a true strike. She can’t help but smile as she watches, even as her heart skips a beat, some shard of herself slipping away to her other self.
Ashe straightens, then rushes over to Markus, to heal him. She doesn’t know what she’s losing, but she’s sure it’s worth it. Meathe isn’t here, but her friends are, and they’re definitely more important than anything else. Even herself.
——–
And we keep living anyway
We rise and we fall
And we break
And we make our mistakes
And if there’s a reason I’m still alive
When so many have died
I’m willing to wait for it
Markus always insists on a party when they return home. Kyr agrees. Gregor rolls with it, and Thog never speaks against it. Ashe knows she should say something, knows they always annoy her- but she still helps with the preparations and finds her spot in the corner and sits to watch, stewing in her anger.
It’s her own fault. She could try and join in, and sometimes she does, but it’s always exhausting. She slips out on her own after an hour or two, frustrated over not being able to match everyone’s excitement
The wisps flock to her when she’s in this sort of mood, and she does appreciate that. It’s like being enfolded in mist, hidden from the world, quiet with her own thoughts. “Thank you,” she says to them.
Sometimes she finds Charoth near the aqueducts, on the rare occasions that Kyl’il comes to the get-togethers. He traces his staff through the water, forming patterns in the ripples that disappear as soon as he makes them.
Ashe sits next to him, her feet dangling in the water. The wisps still hover around the two of them, sometimes dipping into the water themselves. They can hear the revelry, but at this distance it isn’t so tiring. It’s calming actually, to know that she doesn’t have to be somewhere for others to do what they want. Knowing that she doesn’t always have to be a part of ‘normal’.
Charoth looks at her after a while, once. She smiles back at him. “I’m okay,” she says, even as she starts crying. “I just… I wanted some space, is all.”
He tilts his head slightly, and the wisps draw away from them. Ashe waves her hand. “Sorry, I meant- from the others. You’re alright. I just don’t want to be at a party.”
He stares at her a moment longer, then goes back to drawing designs. The wisps settle around the two of them again. The night passes calmly, and when she returns to her friends it takes less effort to match their enthusiasm, somehow.
——–
He takes and he takes and he takes
And he keeps winning anyway
He changes the game
He plays and he raises the stakes
And if there’s a reason
He seems to thrive when so few survive, then Goddamnit—
The stone hand disappears, and with it Ashe’s breath. She stumbles, and gets hit for her distraction. She reels back, barely staying on her feet. I need more, damn you! she thinks, reaching further into herself, into the one tied to her.
A larger piece of herself falls away, and for once she knows exactly what it is- she opens the puzzle box, after months of effort, she can’t wait to show Dad that she finally managed it- and she’s distracted for the second time. Markus shouts something at her, and she barely dodges another attack.
She screams as she directs her counter, the stone hand slamming into the monster. The monster, massive as it is, squeals in pain, but she keeps hitting it, over and over, directing her bane at it for as long as her energy holds out-
She falls as the hand disappears, shaking in anger. Is this how it is? She’s been relying on her powers more and more, and now, it seems it’s taking more from her each time. She knows what it took, when before she wouldn’t until she needed that part of herself. But she has to keep going, for Markus and Gregor, for Kyr and Thog and Inien, for all the people they help. For the sake of spiting it, and the people of Meathe that would tie it to her.
“Ashe?” Markus asks, cautiously approaching.
“Let’s go,” she says coldly. “There’s a whole pack of these, right? Let’s get after them before they decide to hurt anyone else.”
——–
Love doesn’t discriminate
Between the sinners
And the saints
It takes and it takes and it takes
And we keep loving anyway
We laugh and we cry
And we break
And we make our mistakes
It’s difficult not to cry every day, anymore. So much of herself is gone, and she barely knows what to do. Every adventure she has to pull on something, to where even guidances take something that she misses immediately.
The weather matches her mood today, rain falling steadily like her tears. She sits near the beach, the salt and wind somehow comforting in their harshness. Kyr finds her there, and drops an extra cloak over her. “You shouldn’t be out here in this,” he says.
“Neither should you,” she answers, glad that the rain hides her tears for her.
“Yeah, well, we missed you, and you weren’t at your place, so…” Kyr stops himself before he can go off on a tangent. “C’mon, everyone misses you. You haven’t been around in almost a week!”
She stands, and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want to leave her spot, but she knows she shouldn’t disappoint her friends, even if she can’t bring herself to care. “Alright.” She follows him back to the bar. Everyone’s there, and Markus is playing a song he wrote for her, and Gregor is setting up some kind of meal, and Thog and Inien are playing cards but look up when she comes through the door-
“What’s going on?” Ashe asks, a familiar panic rising in her chest. She doesn’t know how to react here, and if she ever did, she has no idea how to fake it. “You’re all…”
“We’re worried about you,” Thog says simply. “So come warm up, get some hot food, and relax with us a little.”
Her heart’s fluttering, and her stomach’s doing flips. Fear roots her, worry that they’ll judge her for not knowing what to do, and then she’s crying again, bawling like a child. Markus sets his instrument aside and rushes over, and Kyr’s rubbing her back, and Gregor’s got a warm bowl of soup for her once she does calm down. Thog comes to sit next to her while she eats, holding her free hand and tracing circles over her wrist with his thumb, and Inien’s on her other side talking about some ridiculous thing she has to tease Colvin over next time they see him.
They all stay by her, as she sniffles and apologizes and cries some more, because it feels like there’s nothing left, at least not for a few hours. After a little while, she realizes what they’re doing for her, and she cries all over again, but this time it’s from happiness instead of anxiety, and she can’t stop thanking them.
She keeps this memory, their loves for her, clinging to them with everything she has, until there truly is nothing else left.